


A Year of Winter

by celinamarniss



Series: Legacy [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Thrawn Trilogy - Timothy Zahn
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Force Bond (Star Wars), Hoth, Semi-Public Sex, Sex in a X-Wing, Snow and Sexytimes, Snowball Fight, Wintertime fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-09-09 15:06:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8895916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celinamarniss/pseuds/celinamarniss
Summary: Pre-The Empire Strikes Back, Mara and Luke keep each other company on Hoth, much to the annoyance of everyone else.





	

**Author's Note:**

> A companion to  Legacy, though you don't necessarily have to read that to enjoy this fic. All you need to know is that Mara defected from the Empire after Yavin, and she and Luke have recently started hooking up.
> 
> This story was frangipani's idea. Happy holidays, everyone!

Hoth was like nothing Luke had ever seen before.

 _Snow_ was like nothing he’d ever experienced; it was so  _wet_ (An overabundance of  _wet_ wasn’t something Luke had known in the first two decades of his life). The view in front of him was covered with a dazzling blanket of white as far as he could see, so bright it was blinding. In a way, the barren expanse wasn’t so different from the desert. Both were deadly.

Mara’s red hair was a brilliant flash of color against the white as she stood beside him in the doorway to Echo base, contemplating the landscape with markedly less enthusiasm. Her nose had gone red and she made a face at him. 

“What do you think of our new home, kids?” Han came up behind her and slung an arm across her back, his large gloved hand resting on her shoulder.

“I didn’t know anywhere could be this  _cold,_ ” Luke said. 

Mara snorted. “Welcome to the galaxy, Farmboy.”

There was an undercurrent of affection under her brusque tone that made him smile. Even now, she was still more likely to make a cutting remark than openly show her feelings. That was okay. Luke vowed to be affectionate enough for both of them.

“Ever seen this much snow before, Red?” Han asked Mara. 

“I had a mission on Chandrila once in the winter, but I didn’t spend much time outdoors.”

“So, no.” Han crouched down and scooped up a handful of snow. “You’ve never made a snowball before, huh, Kid?”

Luke watched curiously as Han turned the snow in his hands as he spoke, packing it together into a solid ball. Then Han stood, gave him a crooked smile and hurled the entire thing in his direction. He gasped as Han’s lump of snow hit him in the face, a splatter of wet and _cold._

Snow was still so new a concept that it hadn’t even occurred to him that it could be weaponized. He gaped as he shook it out of his eyes, feeling an ice-cold droplet run down his neck. Mara’s reflexes, as always, were faster than his, and she was already lobbing a fist of snow at Han. 

“Wrong,” Han said as he ducked, making her frown. “Like this.” 

He showed them how to pack the snow into ball, and soon they were tossing the frozen projectiles at each other.

It wasn’t long before a few of the other pilots got into the act, and a small war began in the snowbank in front of the base. Mara was a demon, fast and relentless on attack against anyone who got within range, her aim sure and her methods brutal. She just wouldn’t let up. When Luke finally pulled her out of the game, she was determinedly stuffing Dak into a snowbank. 

“You can stop, Mara," he said. Her lips were turning blue and she was shivering uncontrollably, but she hadn't even thought to pause and take a break. "It’s just a game.” 

Later, as she sat on their bed, wrapped in all the thermal blankets he could get his hands on, she said: “I never played games, before…in my old life.” 

His heart broke a little at her statement. “I could teach you some. If you want.” It felt like a paltry offer compared to the childhood she’d lost.

She shrugged. Her eyes raked across him, her own shining with interest. Clearly, she had other things in mind.

“Come here,” she said imperiously, tugging on his arm, pulling him down into the cocoon of blankets. 

Her hand wormed under his sweater and he yelped. “Your hands are still cold,” he whined. 

Mara snorted, undaunted in her quest to reach his skin. Her hands roamed over his chest, before wandering down to slip into his pants.

“Mara,” he moaned. 

“Take those off,” she hissed back. He hurried to comply.

Even though they’d been together for months, this thing between them still felt new and fragile. For most of that period they’d been reduced to furtive assignations between missions, sneaking into each other’s rooms on _Falcon,_ or on whatever base they’d been assigned. Now they were sharing a room and a bed for the foreseeable future and it had been an adjustment for them both. Neither of them had shared a room growing up, though they’d both experienced the particular frustrations of an Alliance bunk room. Luke knew that Mara was particular about things, and he’d found that he had limits to what he’d compromise. It had been a learning experience. Still, Luke was looking forward to the days ahead, to having Mara in his life and in his bed. 

As he sunk into her he also sunk into her mind, her fascinating, brilliant mind. Since they’d fled from Myrkr and Mara had broken with Palpatine they’d been mysteriously linked through the Force, and it had opened up possibilities he'd never know existed. He’d never even considered that the Force could do  _this—_ could allow him to connect to another person on a deeper level than he’d ever imagined. Obi-wan had never mentioned a link like this one, and Luke fervently wished that his mentor was still there to guide them as they explored the ways of the Force together. 

He rolled off of her, spent, and basked in the emotions that buzzed around the room, so vivid it felt like he could reach out and touch them. Beside him, Mara was practically glowing with satisfaction.

“Warm now?” he said.

“Mmm.”

 

\- -

 

 _Hoth_ came to mean endless drills, training, patrols, paperwork, and monotony. The weeks stretched out into months, with nowhere to go and endless waiting. Waiting for Command to plan their next offensive, or the Empire to find them, or something,  _anything_ to happen.

The newly-founded Rogue squadron was grounded, reduced to running snow patrols and getting on the nerves of the ground crew. Luke, along with other members of the squadron, often spent part of his week making sure his ship remained in top condition for the day when they’d be called on to fly again. He was up in the cockpit of his X-Wing, running through a diagnostic when Mara found him.

“Isn’t your shift _over_ , Farmboy?” She climbed up the ladder and leaned into the cockpit to give him a languorous kiss. “Come keep me company.”

Luke had another idea. “Come join me,” he jerked his head, indicating the tiny cockpit.

“There’s no room in there.”

“I can shift the seat back a bit. Come on,” he gave her his most appealing smile.

She frowned at him. “Why?”

“Please? For me?”

With a put-upon sigh, she swung herself over the rim of the cockpit and climbed in, settling awkwardly on his lap, managing to elbow him in the ribs in the process. She was right, there really wasn’t enough room for two people. It took a little more adjusting (and shifting the seat back as promised), until she was snug against him. Much better. He nudged her braid aside and began to kiss up the side of her neck.

She twisted her head around to frown at him again. “It this some sort of pilot fetish?” she complained.

“Well…” It wasn't like he never thought about it before. 

She made an indignant sound and he wrapped his arms tighter around her. Now it was a _challenge:_ to convince Mara to  _appreciate_ sharing the cockpit with him. He pulled down the zipper of her quilted winter jumpsuit, the rasping sound loud in the enclosed space.

“Luke!” 

“No one’s watching.” His X-Wing was parked in an unobtrusive corner of the hanger, and there wasn’t a lot of personnel on the floor this time of day. “No can see what we’re doing up here. But they might _hear_ , so you’ll have to be very, very quiet.”

She was wearing at least three layers under her jumpsuit, but he finally reached skin. He ran a hand up her stomach to cup her breast, gently thumbing the nipple, which hardened under his touch. She gave a rough gasp and leaned into his touch. He buried his face into her neck, inhaling the scent of her.

Mara squirmed (which was much  _too_ appealing to a certain part of his anatomy) and twisted enough to pull his head down and kiss him fiercely. Which was wonderful, but he wanted to do this for  _her_. He pulled back and returned to her neck, kissing up to her ear and running his tongue around the shell. A tiny whimper escaped her. “Shhhh,” he breathed in her ear. She opened her eyes to glare at him and shifted back deliberately so that he was the one that had to bite back a groan.

He readjusted her position on his lap, and then pulled the zipper down further. She sucked in a breath as the cold air in the hanger worked its way under her clothing, but she didn’t pull away or move to cover herself. He burrowed a hand down between her legs, the angle awkward and not exactly comfortable for either of them with her clothing still in the way. He knew she wasn’t worked up enough yet, so he teased her, gently stroking her folds until she was rocking up into his hand and making small, frustrated noises. He smiled against her neck, pleased. He could feel her pleasure in quick bright flashes through the Force. She made a choked sound as he sunk his fingers into her and grabbed his other hand, twisting their fingers together. He could sense her burst of pleasure as he reached up to stroke her clit.

When she came, she pulled their entwined hands up to cover her mouth to muffle the cry she made, her body arching away from his, her muscles clamping around his fingers. Her head lolled back onto his shoulder as she sagged back against him, struggling to catch her breath. She shifted in his lap, making him wince, and then twisted, trying to reach behind her, but he caught her hand before it reached its target.

“No, it’s okay. There really _isn’t_ a good angle in here.” He pulled her back against him, nuzzling her temple. For now he was content to just to sit up here in his X-Wing, a warm and sated Mara in his lap. As soon as he _could_ stand, he was going to take her back to their quarters and finish what they’d started.

 _“That’s_ a violation of safety standards!” Wedge’scheerful voice rang out across the room as he and several of the Rogues entered the hanger.

“Get your own X-Wing, Jade!” Wes said. 

Mara twisted away from him so that she could lean over and glare at the pilots. “Watch it, Janson, or I’ll tell Rieekan about the still you’ve got hidden in your quarters.”

Wes made a theatrical gasp of outrage.

“She  _would,_ ” they heard Hobbie mutter. 

Mara scrambled out of his lap and he yelped as her heel dug painfully into his thigh. Well, _that_ was one way to bring down his erection. She hissed an apology as she climbed over the side of the X-Wing and then turned to him with a wicked smile. 

“Next time let’s see what other pilot fantasies we can check off the list.” 

He gaped at her as she disappeared down the ladder, and then dropped his head back against the seat’s headrest with a quiet, frustrated groan. It was definitely going to be a while before he had enough composure to stand up again.

 

\- -

 

Luke pulled an early morning patrol shift for a couple of months and learned a new definition of hell—the hell of long, dark mornings and the bitter, bitter cold that seemed to seep into his bones and never leave. Getting out of a warm bed each morning was the biggest struggle.

On this particular day, Mara wouldn’t be joining him in his morning routine. She had a cold. One of the many viruses that swept around the base had caught up with her and she was confined to bed, miserable and furious. Luke wanted to fuss over her but she just rebuffed any attempts, preferring to be left alone until she was better. He learned that she could get _mean_ when she was cranky. She made an outraged noise as the cold air hit her when he pushed back the blankets to crawl out of their bunk.

"It's never warm enough," she complained, burrowing deeper into the blankets.

"Hey, _you_ think it's bad, _I'm_ the one who grew up in the desert."

"Next time let's hide there," she mumbled. 

It did seem unusually cold that morning. Maybe the heating was on the fritz. Again. “I’ll talk to Threepio about our heating,” he said as he left.

When he returned from his shift he was hit with a hot, humid blast the moment he opened the door to his quarters. Mara was standing in the middle of the room, wearing only her underwear, a pair of heavy socks, and a pathetic expression on her face.

“It’s boiling! What did you do?” she hissed at him. 

“Oh…no. I mentioned it to Threepio. I thought he’d pass it on to repair droid. I didn’t think… I’m sorry. I just wanted you to be warm.”

“This is _worse_.”

He stripped off his jacket, tossed it and his gloves onto the floor. When he reached out for her she jerked away.

“Don’t touch me! It’s hot and I’m sick!” Her glare was undermined by the look of misery still on her face.

He took a look around the room and considered his options. Mara stared at him, her mouth hanging slightly open, as he pulled the mattress out of their bunk and hauled it into the perpetually cold corridor. He leaned it halfway against the wall, leaving just enough room for anyone to pass down the hall.

“What are you _doing,_ Skywalker?”

He picked up a blanket and wrapped it around Mara as she stood there, still looking baffled, and then herded her out into the corridor and sat her down on the mattress. The humid air from their room wafted out into the corridor.

“It’s cooler out here,” he told her as he tucked the blanket around her. “Now, just wait here while I get this sorted out.”

She mumbled something about corridor safety violations that he ignored as he headed off to find a repair droid.  

When he returned later with a steaming bowl of soup, he found Wedge leaning against the wall across from Mara, chatting amiably with her.

“Hello, boss,” he grinned at Luke. “Mara says you put your heating in Threepio’s hands.”

“Never again.” Luke hunkered down next to Mara, passing her the bowl of soup. “It’ll still be a while until the repair droid shows up.” She leaned against him, radiating gratitude through the Force.

“Thank you,” she said.

“It’s not as good as my Aunt Beru’s surro soup, but it’s not bad.”

“My mother was always trying to reproduce my Great-grandfather’s famous hot loso fish soup,” Wedge began.

Luke leaned back into the side of the bed against the wall, an arm wrapped around Mara, as they listened to Wedge tell a story about illicit Corellian seasonings, smugglers, and failed culinary experiments.

 

\- -

 

There was also a seemingly endless stream of meetings. Luke was trapped in a particularly excruciating one—one uneventful report after another, all began to blurring together—when an image popped into his head. It was a memory of Mara, mouthing her way down his stomach, heading toward—his head shot up and he stared over at her. She was frowning intently at a datapad, as though she were completely immersed in its contents. Another set of images flashed through his mind: she’d made it down to his cock, and wrapped her lips around him. Luke struggled to keep from shuddering.

 _Mara. Stop that,_ he thought in her direction. He wasn't sure if the words themselves were clear across their bond, but her eyes slowly rose from the datapad and met his, projecting an air of innocence that was just as provoking as if she’d gloated about it. He clenched his jaw as she projected more images in his direction and felt himself harden in response. He picked up his own datapad and gripped it in his hands, willing the information on the screen to distract him for the explicit images flickering into his head. It was the longest forty minutes of his life.

He bolted out of his seat the minute Leia called the meeting to a close, yanking Mara out of her chair and through the door, not caring how it looked to anyone else. He dragged her down the hall—her amusement and arousal sparking in his head as though it was his own—and into the nearest supply cabinet he could find. 

Mara was on him the minute they made it through the door, kissing him frantically and tearing at the fasteners to his pants. There was a short struggle as they both tried to remove each other’s trousers at the same time. As soon as Mara’s pants were past her knees he lifted her up, pinned her against the wall, and thrust into her. Mara cried out, wrapping her legs around his waist. She was still projecting flickers of previous encounters through the Force, and the mental and physical stimulation together was almost too much.

“You’re amazing,” he gasped.

“Just practicing… Jedi techni—” her quip came out a lot breathier than she obviously intended, and she broke off with a moan as he began to move, to rut her into the wall. “Don’t stop,” she pleaded. Her breath was quick and hot against his neck, little whimpers bursting out of her as they moved. 

They’d barely started when light burst into the room as the door slid open. There was a yelp of surprise from Hobbie, who gaped at them and then slapped the door controls shut as quickly as possible. Luke dropped his head to Mara’s shoulder as he shook with laughter.

"I still need to get a toolbox out of there," Hobbie said through the door.

“Give us a few minutes?” Luke managed. 

“Think you can make it, Farmboy?” Mara chuckled into his neck. This time, he projected back at her, and in no time, Mara was biting her lip to hold back a cry as she came around him. He followed her and then his legs gave out and they collapsed in a messy, tangled heap on floor.

Luke hadn’t even opened his eyes before Mara was already disentangling and pulling away. He watched as she rose to her knees and yanked her pants up. As she stood she rested a hand on the wall, proving she wasn’t as steady on her knees as she was putting on. Luke looked at her in disbelief from where he leaned against the wall, completely wrecked.

“Hobbie’s still out there,” Mara pointed out. She pulled her hand away from the wall to run it over her hair, mussed and falling out of its braid. 

“Hobbie can _wait!_ ” he squawked.

She buttoned up her jacket and looked down at him with a self-satisfied smirk. “Back to work, Commander.”

 

\- -

 

Then there was a disaster that no one had foreseen: a pipe broke, flooding a storage area and destroying the base’s supply of caf. Other rations were destroyed, and there were several serious meetings about a resupply mission, but it was the loss of the caf that became the breaking point.

Luke didn’t realize it was possible to add an extra layer of misery to the early morning patrol shift. _Everyone_ on base was in a foul mood, which just made it all worse. 

Han wanted to take _Falcon_ and fly to the nearest civilized system to pick up a new supply of caf. Leia disagreed. “It’s too recognizable. If anyone tracks the _Falcon_ back to Hoth then the Imperials will be on us in no time.” 

“Hey, no one tracks _my_ ship!” Han said. 

Leia and Han had always bickered, but it seemed to Luke that the frequency and intensity of those verbal battles had increased recently. He knew what Mara thought about it; she’d explained in more detail than he’d wanted to hear. Luke didn’t want to speculate on the sex life—or lack thereof—of his friends. He still _didn’t._

“We need to send someone who can get out of the system quickly and quietly, without attracting attention,” Leia insisted, drawing out that sentence as though she were explaining to a child.

“You want _subtle?_ I can do subtle!”

Leia and Luke gave him identical stares of disbelief.

“We’re wasting time,” Mara said, moving away.

“Rieekan will never approve it,” Leia continued. "It's a completely unauthorized operation, that could put the lives of this _entire_ base in jeopardy." 

“Maybe I just don’t ask for his permission.”

“You’re an officer of the Alliance. You can’t just leave whenever you feel like it! It’s against regulations.”

“It’s _my_ ship! I can take it wherever I want! I don’t need your permission, Princess!” 

“You’re impossible!”

“Well, your _Highness_ , you’re—” 

“Wait—” Luke broke in. “Where’s Mara?”

She’d taken the Z-95 assigned to her and jumped out of the system, using intelligence codes to bypass security protocols and slipping away before anyone had noticed. Rieekan just said: “I know she should be reprimanded for leaving the base without permission, but knowing what she’s doing, I think I’ll have to give her a medal.” 

She was gone for three days and Luke hated every minute of it. They’d both been on much more dangerous missions before, but stuck on Hoth—with no caf—he had nothing to do but worry about her. It was agony. 

She returned with crates of high-quality caf, and refused to tell anyone but Rieekan where she had been.

“My hero,” Luke beamed at her. “Wes is already composing an epic poem on the Five Days Without Coffee.”

She was pleased, though she tried not to show it.

“It was only a caf run, Farmboy.” 

 

\- -

 

One evening Mara came back from a shift spent pouring over intelligence reports touchy and out of sorts, spoiling for a fight. Before Luke had really figured out what was going on, they were screaming at each other over some meaningless point. She’d stormed off, and then the worst part had happened.

She  _disappeared_.

She'd blinked out of the Force, shielding herself from him somehow. She’d never done that before. Thanks to their link in the Force, he could still tell that she was alive and not in any danger, but he couldn’t figure out where she was or what she was feeling. It left him with a panicky feeling, that drove him to tear through the base in search of her, to no avail. Mara did not want to be found, and she did not want him to know where she was.

Luke turned to Leia. She was a good listener, and he laid out their argument, what Mara had said, and what he'd said, in the hopes that she could pinpoint what had gone wrong. 

“Remember that seminar that Rieekan made us all attend about processing trauma?” she finally said, after he'd trailed off. 

“Yeah?” There were only a few psychiatric medics in the Rebellion, most of them from Alderaan, and the seminar had been a way of reaching out to an army of soldiers they couldn't possibly all treat one-on-one. 

“She might not be angry with  _you,_ ” Leia continued. “She might be lashing out because something else upset her, or because she was reminded of something from her past.” 

It sounded plausible; it made him feel even more helpless. “Do you know what happened on her shift? Was there something in a report?”

“I don’t know.” Leia shook her head. “But I don’t know what would trigger her, either. It could have been something I didn’t even notice.”

“What can I do?”

“Give her time and space. Remind her she’s _supposed_ to be seeing the base therapist.” 

“Thanks, Leia.” Leia had always been a good friend and confidant, and was always there for him when he needed advice on matters concerning Mara. He still thought fondly of that brief moment when he’d pined after her, a moment in time that had been quickly eclipsed by his feelings for Mara after she’d tumbled into his life. 

Later that night he woke to find Mara slipping into their bed.

He shifted over. “How did you do that?” It was still bothering him that she could hide herself from him.   

She didn’t answer at first, and when she did, it was in a small, hesitant voice that barely sounded like her. “I can’t tell you.”  

He felt frustration boil up again. If she’d just explain what was bothering her, he could help her sort through it. Didn't she understand that? But there were still things about her former life under Palpatine’s control that she wouldn’t—or couldn’t—tell him about. _Give her time,_ Leia had said. But what if they didn’t have time? They were in the middle of a war; either one of them could be killed tomorrow. He didn’t know what he’d do without her. She curled into him, burrowing her face into his neck and he felt her anxiety and fear seeping through the Force. He wrapped his arms around her and stroked her hair, murmuring words of reassurance.

She kissed him and pressed her body to his, half in apology, half in a desperate need for comfort. Luke tried to express with his touch that she was  _safe_ —that the Emperor would never find her here, that he would never hurt her again.

But he wasn’t sure he could keep that promise.

 

\- -

 

The still Wes had built had grown into mythical proportions, taking over several storage compartments and using an assembly of items never intended for the processing of alcohol. Small batches of his homebrew were passed around (each batch given absurd and frequently vulgar names), but he kept hinting that the majority of what the still produced was meant only for special occasions.

One evening he hijacked the base’s com system to declare that it was the date of a major holiday on his home planet of Tanaab and he was throwing a party to celebrate. The party began in the Rogue common room and spilled out into the hallway and several surrounding offices. The current batch of moonshine was passed around freely in a collection of cups stolen from the cafeteria. The brew was _potent,_ but no one seemed to much care. The whole based needed to blow off some steam.

Leia had braided Mara’s hair up for the party, the braids looping together into a bun at the nape of her neck. She grinned at him, her cheeks pink from the warmth of the room and the burn of the alcohol. She was so _beautiful._ Force knew how he got that lucky. 

“Exactly what holiday are we celebrating?” Luke asked her.

“The Tanaab winter solstice. It’s the biggest holiday of the year on Tanaab.” She frowned. “Except that it already passed three months ago.”

“Ah-ah-ah!” Wes appeared, already visibly drunk. “Don’t be so literal, Jade! It’s always Winter Solstice in here.” He touched his chest, and then reached across and placed his hand on her heart.

“If you’re trying to cop a feel, Janson,” she said narrowly. “I suggest you reconsider it.”

“Not in front of the Commander!” Wes said in a dramatic stage whisper. “Now if you’ll excuse me, Hobbie and I have a thing to do.”

Hobbie and Wes dragged a table to the middle of the room and Wes proceeded to attempt to climb clumsily on top of it. The party-gowers viewed this as acceptable entertainment and gathered to watch. When he’d managed to pull himself up and stand, he raised the glass that Hobbie passed him above his head. “To the Alliance and to limitless alcohol!”

The party cheered. He bumbled off the table and Tycho took his place, and a series of toasts given by inebriated pilots and personnel followed. Wes returned midway through to toast the wampas, which was met by loud boos.

A tech tipsily took his turn on top of the table, calling out: “To family back home!” There were a few cheers and a lot of dirty looks from the Alderaanians, who made up a big contingent of the Hoth personnel. Luke felt a pang as he thought of Owen and Beru and the homestead, but it was just a dull sadness now.

He looked at Mara, whose face and Force-presence had gone curiously blank. She’d _never_ had a family back home to care about her, even _back home_ was a concept he knew she found unfamiliar. He wrapped his arms around her, nuzzling into her hair, as he flooded their bond with warmth and tenderness. “You’re _my_ family, Mara.” he murmured in her ear. Her expression remained blank, but her presence  _exploded,_ a heady combination of pleasure and surprise.

“You’re drunk, Skywalker,” she said.

“Yeah,” he said happily as he leaned down to kiss her. “Here’s to our first Winter Solstice together, Mara.”


End file.
